


Talk Doesn't Cook Rice

by kastron (decidueye)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Cooking, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-05
Updated: 2013-05-05
Packaged: 2017-12-10 12:42:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/786169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/decidueye/pseuds/kastron
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ficlet written for irishjeeper's prompt to my LJ: <i>Stiles cooking dinner for the pack at Derek's residence</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Talk Doesn't Cook Rice

Stiles doesn’t ask Derek before he commandeers his kitchen; he just turns up one day with bags full of groceries, shoulders his way through the door and slams it closed, leaving the Alpha somewhat confused and more than a little ruffled. Each member of the pack receives a text, and they turn up gradually over the course of the day, all finding Derek sat in front of the kitchen door, glaring at it as though he thought he could burn a hole.

”…What’s he doing?” Isaac asks, tentatively, ten minutes after he arrives. Derek sniffs, huffs, and folds his arms before responding.

”Cooking.”

Scott gets excited when Isaac relays the news; Stiles only cooks for him on special occasions, and it’s been a while. He regales the rest of the pack with tales of Stiles’ mother’s recipes and everyone becomes restless, wolf-enhanced metabolisms churning. Derek pretends not to listen and keeps staring at the door. Stiles bangs on it once and tells him to go play in the forest, and Derek’s frown deepens.

When Stiles finally opens the door, run down by the pack before he can even announce dinner’s ready, the table is piled high with food. It lasts less than 15 minutes, and then the wolves sigh happily, slumping in their seats whilst the more human members of the group continue to dig into their plates. Stiles shoots Derek a hopeful glance, and is met with a satisfied nod. Not quite a smile or a swoon, but he hadn’t banked on that anyway, so he high fives himself under the table. The pack even help with the washing up, once they’ve gotten over their food comas.

That evening, as people begin to drift home, Lydia kisses Stiles on the cheek. He blushes, cheeks and neck matching the shade of his hoodie, and opens his mouth to make some witty comment about knowing she loved him really, but she beats him to it.

”Thanks… _mom_.” She grins, more wolfish than any of her lycan friends, and skips away.


End file.
